raybear | What the fck is going on? I can't go to sleep.

The doctor's office was empty of patients and the two interns jokingly fought over who got to take Mr. Goodwrench (that's me) while I wrote out a check for my co-pay. I ended up with Mark, who seemed more confident than the last couple folks though still equally nice. I told him I was here to resume my hormone therapy with Dr. Snag because I left my other doctor, and while I was here, I have a new sex partner so I wanted to get tested, including possibly a hepatitis vaccine. We talked in more detail about all sorts of other health matters, took my readings, etc. He went to fetch the the good doctor and I still marvelled at how they always take my heart and lung and stomach readings without making me remove my shirt.

Snag came back and asked what was up. Mark said I was hear for hormone therapy, hepatitis vaccine and viral load. Snag did a double take, then told me to sit down on the chair closer to him. He leaned in to me.

"So what's going on?"
"Um, nothing. Remember last time I came in we discussed having you monitor my hormones from now on?"
"Yeah, yeah, I know but what's up with these other tests?"
"Um, I just have a new partner and wanted to be careful -- you know, I haven't been tested in awhile."
"Yeah, but you're not positive!"
"Um, I know?"
"Ahhh! So you just want an HIV test, right? Not a viral load test!"

At this point we both turn and look at Mark. Oops. He stammered a bit and apologized. Dr. Snag then clarified that I was on hormone replacement therapy but not for that.

So while Mark thought I was an hiv-positive gay man (when I mentioned a new sex partner I noticed him being extremely neutral about pronouns in the followup questions), Dr. Snag turned to me with his goofy grin and said, "so tell me about the new girl."

I don't know why he assumes I'm straight. I don't know why I didn't correct him, though he didn't actually say anything wrong. (Except for maybe saying "girl" instead of "woman".) This isn't the first time -- last visit he was telling me of the wonders of their computer system, telling me that when I bring my medical file from the other doctor, they'll scan everything into my file, then "when you meet the girl for your dreams and move to Hawai'i, I'll burn everything onto a CD-Rom and you can take it with you!"

He leaves and Mark goes out to get all the needles and whatnot. I step out into the waiting room and see Lowenstein playing hearts on her Palm pilot and wave her into the room. The PA comes in ready to stick me and he starts swabbing me down while introductions are made -- it's a tiny room, more of a dressing room instead of an examination room, complete with walls that don't go all the way to the ceiling (anyone remember my adventures at the NYC flophouse last summer?).

He finds the right vein and while I'm turning away trying to make conversation, I'm still very cognizant of the needle about to go in. Except I didn't feel it at all.

"Damn, you're good."
"I know."
"I mean, the last person who took my blood was good, but you're goooooood."
"I'm just trying to get home," he deadpans.

Then he holds up the syringe of testosterone. "Lift up your sleeve."
"You're sticking my arm?!"
"Yeah. Where do you usually get it?"
"My ass."
"We can do that."
I pause. Even though I'm used to dropping trousers with doctors and even in front of Lowenstein, I decide it's not worth the effort. "No, we'll try something new." Beat. "You're not going to hit bone with that long-ass needle though, are you?"

Mark starts making jokes about how often he hits bones ("only one out of three times, right?") and right as I say, "don't joke," the needle goes in. But I feel no stick. Nothing. He pulls out and tells me to hold the cotton ball while he turns to get a band-aid.

"You didn't even flinch," said Lowenstein.
"I didn't have to! I'm telling you, he's really really good!" I trail off because suddenly a dull pain grows quickly in my arm. "Owwwwww....damn how's it going to hurt after the fact?"

He puts the band-aid on while explaining why the hurt was delayed. "All this work made me hungry." And he left the room.

Yeah, me too. As a reward, Lowenstein took me to Trader Joes where I filled up on soymilk and other sundries then she drove me home so I wouldn't have to carry the bags on the train.